


Birds of a Feather

by boccardo_syllogism



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, even if Douglas doesn't really realize it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boccardo_syllogism/pseuds/boccardo_syllogism
Summary: A phone call, and then a goose call.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [martincrieff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/martincrieff/gifts).



> For a very dear friend who's going through some things. I can't hug you in person, but maybe Douglas hugging Arthur will help a little.

The door opens and shuts, in much the same way that it and millions of other doors across the world do many times a day, and it is this more than anything that sends unease prickling down Douglas’ spine. Arthur is a generally noisy person - he’s not in the habit of doing anything at normal volume. Something is wrong.

Sure enough, when he looks up, Arthur is staring blankly into space. His hands are shaking, but he is more still than Douglas has ever seen him before, and Douglas hadn’t known that it was possible for a man who’s six feet tall to look so very small.

“Arthur?” He pitches his voice low, reassuring, praying that it doesn’t betray his growing fear.

“Dad called.”

Douglas almost drops the book he’s holding.

“He-” Arthur cuts himself off abruptly and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “He - I don’t-” He gulps in a breath, and it is so ragged and choked with tears that Douglas’ heart  _ aches _ .

He pulls Arthur’s hands away as gently as he can. Arthur’s eyes finally snap to his own, red and full of baffled anguish, and Douglas is helpless to do anything but pull the boy into his arms.

Arthur practically stumbles into his chest and clutches tightly enough to crush Douglas’ ribs. Douglas doesn’t care, not when he can feel hands fisting in the back of his shirt and dampness spreading across his shoulder. Arthur is trembling, his breath coming unevenly in wet gasps as more and more of his weight rests against Douglas.

In all his long and storied life, Douglas has never wanted to hurt someone as badly as he’d like to lay into Gordon Shappey right now.

But he can only pull Arthur closer and murmur vague sympathetic noises, knowing even as he does it that there are no words that can heal a hurt like this, no treatments his erstwhile medical education can prescribe to make it better. All he can do is rub a comforting hand down Arthur’s back and hope it helps.

“I don’t know what I did,” Arthur mumbles into his shoulder. His voice is too quiet, too small, too not-Arthur, leaving Douglas feeling more useless than ever. “I must have done something. Stupid, stupid…”

Douglas pulls back to stare at him, aghast, but Arthur isn’t looking at him. He gently draws Arthur’s chin up until the boy has no choice but to make eye contact.

“You did nothing wrong, Arthur. Not a thing, do you hear me?” He waits until there’s a tiny nod before he continues. “Your father is just …. an incredibly awful man. You did nothing wrong and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. It is not your fault. Say it back to me.”

“It’s not my fault,” Arthur mumbles back. “But Douglas-”

“Shh. No buts. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Arthur’s eyes hold his for a brief, heartbreaking moment before he slumps back into Douglas’ shoulder. They stay there for what might be seconds, might be hours, Douglas doesn’t particularly care anymore.

“Why is he like this, Douglas?”

Douglas sighs. “I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t understand it either.”

Bizarrely, this seems to reassure him more than anything Douglas has already said, and he looks up of his own accord. His face is blotchy and wet and a little disgusting and he finally looks a little like himself again. An almost painful rush of fondness overwhelms Douglas - before he realises what he’s doing, he’s pressed a soft, affectionate kiss to Arthur’s forehead.

Eventually, Arthur pulls away. Douglas lets him go, silently offering a box of tissues. The resulting  _ honk _ makes him smile in spite of himself. “Ever thought of plying your trade as a goose wrangler, Arthur?”

“Oh, d’you really think I could?” Arthur’s eyes light up for the first time this morning, and Douglas can’t resist.

“Absolutely! With a call like that, you could be impressing ganders and goslings from here to Grand Forks. And really, who better to guide them on their flight south for the winter than our very own flight attendant?”

“ _ Brilliant! _ ”

When Carolyn enters the portacabin a few minutes later to find her son intermittently trying to honk into a frankly alarmingly large pile of tissues and attempting to fold them into what appear to be artful crumples, she almost turns around and leaves.

“Arthur, I believe the Japanese created origami swans, not geese,” Douglas calls lazily from his desk, where he’s engrossed in the day’s paper.

“Really? Well, my geese can have some swan friends. Hi Mum!”

“ _ What _ , exactly, is going on here?” she says, voice quiet and deadly.

Douglas opens his mouth, but to her surprise it’s Arthur who answers, as ever unaware of the impending doom her tone promises. “Don’t worry, Mum. Douglas did something clever and now everything’s all right!”

He matter-of-factly goes back to his hideously misshapen swans. Carolyn turns to give her pilot what-for, only to find him looking completely stunned and almost teary-eyed.

Later, of course, he quietly fills her in on what little he knows, and tactfully suggests a goose-watching excursion to Arthur when she seizes the phone like a woman possessed. He never does find out what exactly is said that has Carolyn looking maliciously content when they return, but no matter.

Gordon never calls again.

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to jay_eagle for reading it over and reassuring me. You're the best.
> 
> As ever, I'm preux-chevalier on tumblr. Say hello!


End file.
